


Liberacorpus

by kalijean



Series: due South Wizard!Verse [15]
Category: due South
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, M/M, UST, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 05:00:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalijean/pseuds/kalijean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The curve of his neck calls to me.   Warmth of his blood all too clear to me, even from a few inches away.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liberacorpus

The mattress is as dozens I have slept on before, and it thankfully does not stink. The place has a faint scent of must, but no more; perhaps an unsold property, left to wait an owner.

I am exhausted. I feel it in every heartbeat, as though it is liquid seeping into my blood, the weariness of what we have been through. I can taste Mike's, too, on the air. With other notes; sweat, dirt, the hints of magic for where and with what we have been. His deodorant has long since worn off. 

We should wash. We should rest.

I am hungry.

I settle at his side, something he does not bother even to mutter faint objection to, no doubt hoping to finally give way to the drowse that he may as well be giving off in cloud form around us. The curve of his neck calls to me. Warmth of his blood all too clear to me, even from a few inches away.

I am cold. I do not shiver, but I feel it nonetheless, and the want of his heat may as well be drawing into my soul.

"What is it, Laurent?"

"Must it be anything?" My facade is token, and my voice is dry.

His eyes are closed, but his eyebrows raise. Drowsy impatience. 

"Staring at me different than usual." He cannot even see me. My remarkable muggle.

The breath leaves me slowly, wafting the hair by his ear. He twitches. I pet it down with two gentle fingers.

"I am hungry." 

His eyes come open. I am grinning, the fangs apparent, no want and little ability, in this state, to hide them. It seems we watch each other for some time; the silence comes at the beat of his heart. I can hear it. A stopwatch in an empty room.

The sigh comes upon the beauty of his head turned to the side, his neck offered to me.

I find no shame in the fact this steals my breath a moment.

My fingers trace the curve of it, ignoring the sound of tired exasperation that it earns me. I smell no fear from him. So many reactions I have felt in waves off the many creatures upon which I have fed; from mad fetish-driven joy, to sickening terror as life bleeds away, but never have I felt something so rare as mere, mild, tired annoyance. His skin is warm. He needs a shower - so do I - but I do not care.

The wind of my fingertips across his skin makes him shiver. It is now I can taste a tinge of apprehension about him, only a thread of it, and he is not the only one to perfume the air, though my own contribution is warmer. 

"Get on with it," Mike manages, rough-noted, that edge on it forcing a smile upon my face at the realization that some part of him has sensed the tenor of that warmth. "If you've got time to play with your food, you've got time to hunt."

Oh, but I would starve a few moments longer to play with this one.

Still.

When I shift my weight halfway upon him, my face tipped up to the hollow of his neck, it is gently; I know the places he must ache, for what we have been through, and would not cause him any further pain before taking it all away again. He stiffens underneath me. My hands find his hair, petting it to earn myself another twitch, but he does not rescind the offer of his neck.

I raise goosebumps with a single breath across the curve offered to me, a brush of my lips one last play upon the intersection of waning patience and the off-balance of my own desire. He takes a breath to say something, but it is lost as I taste the skin and sweat and dinge to bite his neck.

He draws a sharp breath, beautiful as he stiffens again, and my hands close to hold his head steady.

His twitch, jerk, and close in the long coat at my back, balling it up in his fingers as his blood trickles and flows. The hitch in his breath for the pain - that pulse thudding hard for those few seconds - fades on the ease of venom into his system. More than that. The ease of my warmth over his mind.

Mike grows calmer under my weight. 

There will be precious little time this way, and I have no want to take more than the openings of his body offer easily to suction. Though I can feel my body flush to its feeding, my hunger has lost center stage in favor of him. He is so very many colors underneath, many of which I can see without him ever confiding a word of it to me, displayed on a mustache twitch, on square shoulders or digged-in heels or a sly gesture, but nothing has such clarity as this. The salt of sweat, the bitter of dirt, they mean nothing. He is notes in the cloud we make between us now, of strange innocence and adorable humor and softness underneath. The jester. The protector. The detective. Something else.

Hm.

Whatever you want, Mike, I promise. It is yours.

What he must feel of me now. Not least of which is the hardon I press against him, and though I do not dare move, his body is as deeply tempting as his mind. Warm. Firm. Responsive. There's a faint noise from him; distant confusion, and for all I'm connected to him, for all I can taste amongst the copper, it takes me a moment to understand his sound is for his own growing erection.

I rub my thumb in his hair, the soft rustle joining the sound of his breath as it ebbs to something even. I feel the rising notes of his high, surrounding him, warming him like alcohol. A tip to the scales. Do not worry, Mountie. I will take no liberties with you in your sleep that I do not when you're awake.

Mike's hands fall away from my coat, almost a caress on their way to the bed we share.

I am wrapped around him when it takes him under, feeling the thrum of his soul even in its sleep.

I hope he lasts longer. Next time.


End file.
